


Happiest Day

by Unsentimentalf



Series: One Small Change [3]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-03-13 12:39:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13570761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unsentimentalf/pseuds/Unsentimentalf
Summary: Six months after Kerr Avon disappeared with a fast ship, Orac and a great deal of money, Del Tarrant has won himself a prize worth infinitely more that mere wealth and power, and he truly couldn't be happier. He didn't imagine that something could go so wrong so soon...





	1. Happiest Day

The sea reflected the crimson of the volcanoes and the orange of the sunset. Tarrant sipped his glass of sparkling wine and watched a small flying thing skim over the surface of the waves. He wondered if he had ever been this elated before in his life. 

"Can I get you anything else, sir?" a young man appeared at his shoulder to ask. 

"Not right now, thank you. My husband will be joining me for dinner shortly." 

There. He had said it for the first time to a stranger. That made it real, surely? Tarrant rotated the unfamiliar ring on his finger. He’d been so nervous all day, half expecting something unimaginable to go wrong. Now the ceremony was done, they’d come down to the hotel with nothing to do now but enjoy themselves and he felt blissfully relaxed. 

Three days here, together, on their own. Tarrant had argued for two weeks, Blake had fretted about leaving the Liberator for more than a few hours. They'd compromised. Like most of their compromises it was more Blake's way that Tarrant’s but Blake had the weight of the revolution on his shoulders and Tarrant had no intention of demanding more that the man felt he could honestly give. Blake had married him. How could Tarrant possibly want more than that? 

The volcanoes still glowed but the sky was darkening. Blake was taking a long time to change. Tarrant was getting hungry and the aromas coming from the restaurant were heavenly. He waited another ten minutes or so then put down the glass and walked without any urgency back to their room to chivvy his man along. 

Blake’s evening clothes were still set out on the bed but the room was empty. Tarrant took a quick look round then spoke into his teleport bracelet. 

“Liberator. Has Blake come back on board?” 

“Have you lost him already?” Vila’s voice came back. “No, he isn't up here. Is there a problem? 

“Shouldn’t think so,” Tarrant said cheerfully. “He's probably preaching revolution to the kitchen staff. You couldn't check his position for me, could you? This place is a bit of a maze." He would have a gentle word with his new husband about having to use Liberator to keep track of him. 

There was a long pause. When Vila's voice came back it was puzzled. "I can't detect his bracelet. Only yours registers."

Tarrant felt the first stab of worry. “Are you sure he's not on board? One of the others might have teleported him up.”

He heard Vila check with Zen, and the negative response. His heart was beating faster in the start of doubtless premature panic. It was probably just a bracelet malfunction. Of course Blake was around here somewhere. He just needed to look for him.

 

With Liberator orbiting low enough in the sky to be visible with the naked eye, the hotel staff really were doing their best to be helpful. They had little enough useful to say. The resort was the sole settlement on the highly volcanic planet, situated on the only stable bedrock. No ships had come in or out since Blake had last been seen. There were no surface ground transports and the resort's own shuttles hadn't been out of their hangars. All the staff were accounted for, all had been questioned, no one had seen Blake leave his room. Everywhere had been searched, and would be searched again.

“I fear that you ought to consider the presence of natural hazards within a short walk of the hotel,” the manager suggested hesitantly. 

“You think my new husband threw himself into a volcano two hours after our wedding?” Tarrant demanded.

The woman stepped back slightly from his vehemence. “There could have been a accident.” 

“Last time I looked there was no molten lava flowing between our room and the restaurant. And the bracelets are tough. If he fell down a hole or got eaten by the local wildlife it would still be registering. Just keep looking. I’m going to talk to my crew.”

 

Back at the ship wedding decorations festooned the flight deck but the atmosphere was sombre.

“The planet's got a breathable atmosphere and an ecosystem, just about,” Cally said doubtfully. “I suppose there could be people living out there.” 

“Outsiders wouldn’t be able to walk in and take Blake from our bedroom. Not without the hotel knowing,” Tarrant said. 

“Maybe they do know.” Vila suggested. “Maybe they get a cut of the ransom. Anyone who can afford to stay at that place would have enough money to make kidnapping worthwhile.”

Kidnapping? That was ridiculous. Blake couldn’t have been kidnapped, not today of all days. “They’d have made demands,” Tarrant snapped. 

Vila shrugged. “Professional kidnappers bide their time, up the tension. It could be hours, days even until we hear from them.” 

“That makes no sense,” Tarrant said. “Any people living out there would be terribly vulnerable to orbital weapons. Kidnapping Blake would be near suicidal.”

“Only if they knew who he was.” Vila argued. “Your average rich playboy wouldn’t have a heavily armed ship in orbit.” 

“Well, if he's alive he must be down there somewhere,” Cally said. “Kidnapping’s the only theory we’ve got so far, assuming that he didn’t walk out voluntarily.” 

Tarrant didn’t trust himself to reply to that. He turned away from his crewmates towards the main screen, still incongruously decorated with silver bells and tinsel.

“Zen. Display the flight paths of all vessels within the system in the last six hours again.” 

There was little enough on the screen. Thera Two was the only inhabited planet in the small system. The display showed the path of a incoming supply ship, still half a day out, and the final trace of an outgoing guest’s personal craft that had taken off several hours before Blake disappeared. Both matched the hotel's provided schedule exactly.

Right on the edge of the screen was the arc of a ship that had slingshotted past at a distance and at very high speed, using the system gravity to change direction by a small amount. It was the only other ship that had come near the system. 

“We need to check that fly-past out,” Tarrant interrupted the others. 

Cally frowned at it. “But it didn't even come close to the outer planets, Tarrant, let alone the inner system. Surely it would take most of a day for a small craft to get out there from Thera 2? That ship would be long gone by then. And Zen confirms that nothing at all took off from the surface. How can it possibly be relevant?”

“I know all that. But still...I need to think.” Tarrant said. 

He let the others talk while he stared at the screen, absentmindedly rolling the shining golden ring around his finger. There was something about that ship's path that was telling him something. To his experienced eye the trajectory seemed just what would be expected given the mass of the system. The ship had definitely slingshotted in an ordinary enough way, changing its directional vector by about 30 degrees in the process, well within normal piloting parameters. So what was it? 

“Tarrant,” Cally said eventually. "We need to do something towards finding him. We can't just stand here waiting for something to happen."

“I'm not waiting,” he said sharply. “I'm thinking.”

With that it finally came to him. He'd been staring at the blindingly obvious for ages. “Look at this.” he demanded of the others. “Zen, just show the sun and the ship’s path.”

The screen showed nothing but the star in the centre of the screen and the ship's arc bending gently as it flew past it, 3 billion kilometres out. 

“I don't see anything special,” Cally said. 

“Wait. Zen, add Thera 2’s orbit.” 

An almost circular ellipse appeared around the star, about a quarter of the way out to the ship. 

“Tarrant,” Dayna said.” Is this actually going anywhere?” 

“Now!” Tarrant said. “Add Thera 2 at its position three hours ago.” 

The planet appeared on the circle at a point almost exactly between the ship and the star. 

“That cannot be coincidence.” Tarrant insisted. “That fly past took place nearly as close to Thera 2 as it could get and it took place at the time that Blake disappeared.” 

“It doesn't make any difference,” Dayna objected. “He still had no way to leave the planet, let alone rendezvous with a ship at that speed so far out.” 

Tarrant was about to claim that he didn’t know how the man had done it but he still had, but as he opened his mouth he realised with horror that he did know. “Oh fuck. Blake was wearing a teleport bracelet!” 

“But we didn’t teleport him up! Zen’s already confirmed that in a dozen ways. No-one else has teleportation and even if someone else had developed it independently it couldn't possibly be compatible with Blake’s bracelet. I know you’re upset, Tarrant, but this is nonsense.” Dayna insisted.

Tarrant turned on her, his anguish coming out as anger. “Have you considered that whoever’s on that ship might have the skills, the experience with teleport systems and the money to develop a teleport system and at least one Liberator bracelet in his possession to reverse engineer? It wouldn't have to be completely compatible, just enough to lock onto Blake.” 

“Avon,” Vila said, startled. “You think that's Avon? But how would he even know we were here?” 

“For all I know Blake sent him a wedding invitation,” Tarrant snarled,

“Why would he take Blake?” Cally protested. 

“How about because he's Kerr fucking Avon and he does whatever he likes? And whatever he wants Blake for, it would doubtless amuse him to sabotage our wedding day in the process. We need to get after that ship.”

“We can’t,” Cally said, reaching out to place a restraining hand on his arm. “If Blake’s down on the planet we can’t just fly away. His kidnappers might kill him if there’s no-one to negotiate with.”

“He’s not down there!” Tarrant found that he was shouting without intending to. Couldn’t they see? “He’s on that ship!”

“You’ve got no evidence for that!” Her voice was rising too. “It’s all guessing. That ship didn’t even come anywhere near teleport range.” She clearly made an effort to be reasonable. “Look. You’re saying that has to be Avon. No-one else could have hacked our teleport system.”

“Yes, of course it’s Avon,” Tarrant snapped.

“Then if Blake’s on that ship he’s not in any danger. But if he’s on the planet and we leave he could easily die.” 

Tarrant stared at her in disbelief. “No danger? Last time Avon sold him out to Servalan!”

“That was just a ruse. Blake never blamed Avon.” 

“He should have done,” Tarrant pulled away from her hand. “I’m not going to let Kerr Avon get away with kidnapping my husband for God knows what purpose this time. I’m going to take Liberator in pursuit whether you like it or not. Zen. plot a course to meet up with that ship.”

There was a certain amount of non-constructive shouting on both sides. Eventually Vila’s voice got through. “Look. We could always split up. Cally and Dayna could go down to hunt kidnappers while Tarrant and I go after that ship.”

Cally blinked. “I thought you’d be more scared of Avon than of a bunch of pirates,Vila.”

“He doesn’t think Avon’s out there.” Tarrant said, disgustedly. “He thinks we’ll just fly out there and fly back again, conveniently missing all the potentially dangerous stuff on planet.” He was tempted to say that he didn’t want the man along but without Orac Liberator couldn’t practically be flown single-handed. 

“All right,” he said instead to Cally and Dayna. “If you want to go down to the planet, that’s your decision. You’ll have to get off Liberator as quickly as you can, though. I’m going after Blake and I’m not waiting any longer to do it.”


	2. The Wrong Direction

It hadn’t taken Vila long to realise his mistake.

Obviously he had wanted to help get Blake back, but chasing armed kidnappers around active volcanoes had seemed like the sort of thing other people would be far better at than him. Babysitting Tarrant on a wild goose chase from the comfort of Liberator’s flight deck might utilise his skills in a far more effective manner. After all, it was possible that Tarrant might even be right. They were obliged to check that ship out, weren’t they?

That was before he had discovered that Del Tarrant deprived of his new husband and his luxury honeymoon made an active volcano seem positively benign. 

"Scan!" Tarrant snapped at him yet again 

Vila had been monitoring the long range scan for the best part of three hours without a break. It was still as blank as when they'd started out on what Tarrant insisted was the route that the flypast ship had taken. 

"Still nothing," he said. "Are you sure we're going the right way?" 

"Of course I'm sure. She couldn't change vector heading without losing speed. They must have left the system at a much higher velocity than I thought."

"I thought nothing was faster than Liberator?"

"Nothing is. If they keep in a straight line we'd catch them in the next few hours. But you see that star dead ahead?"

"The one with a name like a nasty disease?" Vila offered. "How bad a place is it?" 

"751UPG is hardly a place at all." Tarrant said. "It's a bare star, no planets, nothing. Which means it isn't their final destination. She's going to slingshot again, and if she's still out of sensor range when she does it I will have no idea at all of her new heading. We'll have lost her."

He glared at Vila as if the situation was somehow his fault. "I wasted far too much time on that stupid planet. I should have known as soon as Blake disappeared that it had to be that bastard behind it." 

"Maybe we'll still catch up in time," Vila suggested in what was supposed to be a soothing manner 

"Damn right we will. Zen, standard by fourteen."

"Standard by fourteen exceeds safety parameters. Confirm instruction."

"Confirmed. Vila, keep your eyes fixed on that scan and report the second you see anything. Believe me, we don't want to be doing this a moment longer than we have to." 

Villa wanted to ask about the safety parameters that they were apparently ignoring, but he glanced over once at the stony expression on Tarrant's face and didn't dare. No need for hurry however critical had ever tempted Jenna Stannis to standard by fourteen. Thst thought wasn't at all reassuring. 

He stared at his monitor while Tarrant barked out the occasional number and the ship lurched terrifyingly in response. The tension seemed to be drawn out forever. When a green blob finally appeared at the top of the monitor Vila had to blink three times before he could be sure that it was really there. 

"I've found it, Tarrant! But it's nearly reached the star." 

"Pull every possible bit of data on her," Tarrant said. "Course and ship description. I'll... "

The ship seemed to somehow move underneath Vila as a thunderous bang came from nowhere. The white wall came up to hit him in the nose and he crumpled to the ground in temporary agony. The ship was spinning; somehow despite the artificial gravity he could feel it, his head protesting both the blow and the giddiness. 

"Tarrant!" he gasped. Nothing. 

Vila clasped his hands around his aching skull and opened his eyes. The main screen showed just a blur of light. "Zen! What happened?"

"Liberator has collided with a material object," Zen said. "Critical system damage to sensor arrays, life support, engines, shield, hull..."

"I get the message." Vila said. "What about Tarrant?"

"Del Tarrant is currently unconscious."

"That explains why he isn't shouting at me. Can you please at least stop the ship spinning?"

The sensation of rotation slowly stopped. The few loose items in the flight deck were strewn against one of the walls. Vila struggled to his feet, blood dripping profusely from his nose, and found Tarrant lying on his back by his console. There was no obvious sign of injury and as Vila fumbled at the man's neck for what he thought was the right place for a pulse, Tarrant opened his eyes and stared bleary up at the blood dropping onto his face. 

"Hit something?" he muttered. 

"Just a bit. The whole ship's falling apart according to Zen," Vila told him." Are you badly hurt?"

"Me? No." Tarrant grasped Vila's shoulder to push himself to his feet, and walked unsteadily over to Vila's console. "Zen. Where's the long range scan?" 

"Long range scan inoperable. Damage to sensor arrays." 

"Can you fix them?" 

"Affirmative"

"Then give it priority over everything else."

"Tarrant!" Vila protested. "Even if we found that ship we couldn't chase it. We'll be lucky if Liberator doesn't just disintegrate around us. You're her pilot. You could at least look at the damage before you start giving orders."

"I can't lose them," Tarrant snapped. "How the hell will I find Blake again?" 

"By not dying out here, for a start. Zen, damage report." 

Tarrant looked furious but he did at least listen to the lengthy list of damaged systems, and followed it up with a detailed interrogation of the ship. By the time Zen fell silent he was looking distinctly ill. 

"Forget the sensors for now, " he said. "Hull integrity and life support are priority, then enough power to the engines to let us at least start limping back."

He looked across at Vila. The angry in his face had faded to bleak unhappiness. "I know we have to go back for the others. There's no point in going on. I've lost him.." 

For the first time since Blake's disappearance- quite possibly for the first time ever- Vila found himself feeling wretchedly sorry for Del Tarrant. 

 

*Got them! Teleporting now!" came over the intercom. 

Tarrant couldn't share Vila's obvious pleasure, which was why he was on the flight deck and not down in the teleport room to welcome his crewmates back. He felt a dull relief that nothing had gone wrong on Thera 2 in the two weeks it had taken Liberator to crawl back here but he didn't want to be the one to tell Cally and Dayna that he'd lost Blake and how badly he'd damaged Liberator. Neither their sympathy nor their disappointment in him would be bearable right now. 

He was feeling utterly ragged. There hadn't been much that he could do to assist in the ship's painfully slow repairs but he'd been unable to relax off shift in the far too empty bed. Most of the sleep he'd had in the last fortnight had been at irregular intervals on the couch in the rec room. He'd woken a couple of times to find Vila tiptoeing around him but neither of them had said anything. Vila's attempts at tactfulness had in many ways been worse than the man's usual blundering conversation. Nothing would be right until Blake was back. He had to get his lover- his husband- back, somehow. 

Footsteps warned Tarrant of everyone's return. He turned away from the door they'd come though, towards the main screen showing the current damage, giving himself a pointless couple of extra seconds before he had to meet Cally's eyes. 

"What on Earth have you done to my ship?" 

Tarrant whipped around so fast that he nearly tripped and fell. Blake was standing, hands in hips, with a glare that completely failed to disguise his grin. Tarrant staggered forward at a run into his arms. 

Eventually Tarrant moved a little backwards, so that he could see Blake's face while still hanging on to his shoulders for dear life. "How did you get here? Where's Avon?" 

"Avon? What's he got to do with anything?" 

"I thought he'd kidnapped you."

"Avon? Why the hell...? No, it was a local job. After about three days as a hostage spent in some very unpleasantly sulphuric caves I managed to escape and flag down Dayna who was out in a flyer searching the area. We cleared out the nest of bad guys, shook down the resort management, several of whom who were definitely complicit, and since then we've just been waiting for you two to get back." 

His attention was on the screen over Tarrant's shoulder. "What happened? Vila said you ran into something, but I wouldn't expect the ship to come off this badly just from a collision." His voice was serious now, genuinely perplexed, 

"I put two and two together and made about sixteen, it seems" Tarrant knew how awkward he must sound. "I thought you had to be in the ship we were chasing and I couldn't let it get away, so I had to take some risks and they didn't go so well. I know she's not in great shape right now but the automatic repair circuits are mostly operational. A bit of time and a few materials - I've got the list- and she'll be good as new."

Blake had disengaged from his embrace, apparently without even being aware of it, and had moved to the nearest terminal to pull up the detailed reports. " How fast can we go at the moment? "

"Without any risk? Standard by four. In a real emergency maybe standard by six."

"I think the poor girl has had enough emergencies for now." Blake said. "I presume you know where to get these materials?" 

"There's a route programmed into the nav system." Tarrant leaned over the console to pull it up. 

Blake stared at it in apparent disbelief. "At standard by four? That's going to take, what, three months? At least!" 

"The ship should get faster as she repairs herself." Tarrant explained. "I thought we should be able to get it down to eight weeks or so." 

"Eight weeks." Blake said, dumbfounded. "You do know we're meant to be fighting a war here?" 

"We're limited by the auto repairs," Tarrant was defensive. "None of us understand Zen's systems well enough to contribute anything useful to the repair work. All we can do is gather the materials the ship needs to do the job herself. That's as close to the optimum route for getting those as I can figure out without Orac's help." 

"And you gave away Orac," Blake said. "Well, if there's no alternative we'd better get underway, I suppose. The sooner we get this done the sooner we can get back to doing something useful." 

As Tarrant navigated the ship extremely delicately out of orbit he was trying his best to see the matter from Blake's point of view. Blake had, from the sound of it, got himself out of a sticky but probably not life threatening situation in his usual competent manner and had been kicking his heels for over a week waiting for Tarrant to return. Given that he knew Tarrant was chasing nothing at all Blake would have had no particular reason to worry about him. From his perspective his new husband had merely run off in the wrong direction then turned up unreasonably late having unnecessarily wrecked his ship. Tarrant could hardly expect him to be delighted. 

It was an unpropitious start to their married life, but that didn't matter. What mattered - the only thing that mattered - was that they were together again. And, Tarrant couldn't help adding mentally, that Kerr Avon was still safely and with any luck permanently absent.


	3. An Eye Out for Company

"Why should I be angry?"

Blake certainly didn't look annoyed. He was sprawled on their bed, unfastening his jacket while he waited for Tarrant to start to undress.

Tarrant was tempted to just go with it, but this had been their first time alone since Blake had come back on board and he thought they really ought to clear the air first.

"I did break your ship quite comprehensively."

"Our ship," Blake corrected him. "And Liberator 's pilot might be the best in the galaxy but space is still dangerous. I was a bit taken aback at first, admittedly but I' m not going to blame you for an accident. Come to bed, Del, and stop fretting." 

He couldn't, not yet. "It wasn't exactly an accident. I was extremely reckless, for no reason as it turned out."

Blake rolled off the bed to wrap his arms round Tarrant comfortingly "Dayna's told me what you thought had happened. You were trying to save me. That's what you do and that's why I love you I wish that I could find a way to persuade you that Avon's not that kind of threat to either of us though." 

Tarrant buried his face into Blake's warm neck. "Maybe not this time," he thought but since the last thing he wanted right then was an argument he said nothing more. 

 

Over the next couple of weeks Blake's frustration with the slow pace of repair was almost tangible even though he said nothing about it in Tarrant's presence. Blake was doing his best to gather information about Federation activity in the areas that they would be travelling to but most of it wasn't the sort of data that Zen had access to. Orac would have known, Tarrant thought, and that was another topic of conversation to be avoided. 

Tarrant spent his time trying to coax as much speed as he safely could out of the damaged engines. Ironically enough this often involved the sort of slingshot maneuvers that the ultra powerful Liberator normally disdained. It was demanding flying that took all his talent and training to do well and that made him feel a little better about the situation, fairly or otherwise. 

Off shift at least all seemed to be well. There was no question of taking time for a honeymoon away from the ship now, but in their quarters Blake was as affectionate and ardent as Tarrant had ever known him. After a while Tarrant stopped waiting for all the possible ramifications of his mistake to catch up with him and started to relax a little. Liberator would fix itself completely in time. All they needed to do was to collect the necessary raw materials and keep out of trouble until she was functional again. 

 

Liberator slid into a high orbit around Patrician 5. Tarrant announced to the crew on the flight deck. "We've arrived. There's just one satellite in orbit and we'll be keeping the planet between us and it. Difficult to know what sort of tech they have on the ground but even if the spot us there won't be anything they can do." 

"They could call for back up," Blake said. "This is a Fed colony world, albeit a semi deserted one, and right now we'd have trouble fighting off a single pursuit ship. We don't want contact with the locals and we don't want to hang around. Zen, give us a map of any surface deposits of rechrondite at least fifty miles from any human settlement."

It was only a few minutes until Blake, Vila and Dayna were suited up for the cold and with the cobbled together mining equipment on the teleport pad beside them. 

"Good luck," Tarrant said." Let us know how it's going. Well be out of range for four hours at a time, thanks to this damn satellite, but keep calling every half an hour and we'll respond as soon as we can."

"Well be fine," Blake said. "Keep an eye out for company. And Del?" 

Tarrant frowned at the change in his voice. "What?"

"Don't fire first, unless you have to. Not unless it's clearly Federation. Right, Cally, put us down."

Tarrant watched them disappear, frowning. Not Federation? What else could it be, out here? 

 

The ship approaching the system was the right size and speed for a pursuit ship. Tarrant had already plotted a course that would curve around the planet, snatch up the others and run, hopefully fast enough. 

Then he noticed the vector it was coming in on was one that, like his orbit, neatly avoided coming within range of the satellite. That was odd enough that he paused for a few seconds or so, and by then Zen had confirmed that it wasn't a recognised Federation design. 

Don't shoot first, Blake had said. He'd known! 

Cally came racing into the flight deck but her almost casual glance at the screen told Tarrant that Blake hadn't been the only one "You knew he'd be here!" 

"Blake said he might turn up." She took her console. "Why are the weapons primed?" 

"Why do you think?" Tarrant retorted. 

"Don't be ridiculous. He's on our side." As the racer took up an orbit barely half a kilometre away from Liberator she opened a comm channel. "Hello Avon. Where have you been?" 

"Hello Cally" the familiar voice came back. "All around the place and busy. Is Blake there?"

"Not right now. Just Tarrant and I. I can pick you up on the teleport if you want to come over?" 

There was a noticeable pause. "I can wait." Avon said. 

"Don't think you're any safer over there," Tarrant remarked. "I could disable or destroy that toy of yours with one shot. I'd rather have you where I can keep an eye on you."

"That," he said into the resulting silence, "you can take as an order, by the way." He powered up the weapons system just a little more as emphasis. 

"Tarrant!" Cally said sharply. "He's here at your husband's invitation. You could be civil." 

Blake had invited him? Tarrant didn't like any of the implications of that. "When it comes to this bastard, I'm watching Blake's back every step of the way. If he's here for a genuine reason he shouldn't object to doing what he's told." 

There was an audible sign from the comm unit. "You'd better teleport me over, Cally. I've no desire to lose my ship to the boy's paranoia." 

"Good decision," Tarrant told him. Cally was shaking her head at him but she headed off to the teleport without further comment. 

Tarrant took a deep breath, then another. An hour until the group on the planet came back within communication range and he now had Kerr Avon to deal with, last seen running away with Orac after lying to Blake about his intentions. Had Blake really been in touch with Avon without telling him? He'd known Avon would be here- there had to have been communication, contacts that Cally knew about and Tarrant didn't. 

Merely by turning up Avon was already causing trouble. By the time the man strolled without any obvious hurry onto the flight deck Tarrant was feeling positively murderous. 

"I understand congratulations are in order." Avon said "Remarkable what persistence can achieve." 

"Did it surprise you?" Tarrant retorted. "You should have been paying more attention."

Avon gave him that close lipped smile again. "I wasn't that interested, I'm afraid." 

Tarrant was tempted to call him out on what he was pretty sure was an outright lie but Avon would merely deny it. "Of course you weren't," he agreed. "I wonder what did take your interest so abruptly when you disappeared on us. Blake was genuinely worried that something terrible might have happened to you. Fortunately I was about to reassure him. Untoward things don't happen to you, do they, Avon? Everything's arranged for your own benefit."

"Your faith in my omnipotence is touching, if misplaced." Avon said. He was now tapping out something on a console. Tarrant pulled up mirror details on his own to see that Avon was looking at the state of Liberator's repairs. 

"This is even more of a mess than Blake suggested." Avon said. "What speed were you doing?" 

Tarrant thought of telling him to go to hell but if Blake really had invited him it could only be to help with the repairs and he was pretty sure that Avon could be of significant assistance with that, if he chose. Blake's ship - their ship- desperately needed all the help she could get. 

"Standard by fourteen" he said, trying not to sound sullen. 

"I'm sure there was an excellent reason for such utter stupidity," Avon said. "Though what it was doesn't interest me either."

"Where's Orac?" Tarrant demanded 

"Not here." Avon said without looking up from the console

"Where is it? It would be a great deal more use to us than you are. It's dependable, for a start. " 

"I'm sure your husband will let you know, once I've discussed the matter with him."

That was enough. Tarrant left his place and walked round to stand on the opposite side on Avon's console, so he could look him in the eye. " You left Blake to die, " he sad softly. "He may think it was all part of your grand plan, but I saw you run and I chased you down and I know you weren't going to turn back or slow down to save him. I remember that every time I see you, so you can drop the act. You're not his old friend, Kerr Avon. Not to me." 

Dark eyes looked back at him for a moment. "Fortunately what you think doesn't matter." Avon went back to the screen without waiting for a reply. "When is the hero of the piece expected to return?" he said without looking up again 

"Soon enough. Is this the point at which I'm supposed to start grudgingly admiring your nerve?" 

Avon raised an eyebrow at that. "Are you going to?" 

"You left Blake to die. It doesn't matter what you do from now on as far as I'm concerned. My opinion of you is never going to change " 

Avon frowned at him. "One can only presume that your natural assets must be quite remarkable," he said. "Even so, what on earth was he thinking?" 

Nothing, Tarrant told himself, was going to induce him to lose his temper. He smiled at the bloody man instead. "Blake told me once that he thought you baited me for some ulterior purpose. But then he always thinks better of you than you deserve. It's petty and it's rather embarrassing to watch but I imagine you can't really help yourself, in the circumstances, You should have stayed away for the sake of what peace of mind you might ever get."

Tarrant couldn't tell whether the man's answering laugh was genuine or not. It didn't matter. Avon could laugh all he liked. Tarrant had delivered the warning that he was onto him. If it turned out that it hadn't been necessary then there was no harm done. It wasn't at if they'd been getting on like a house on fire up to that point, after all. 

Avon seemed to have assumed that their conversation was over and was quizzing Zen about some of the damage reports. Tarrant let him do it. Kerr Avon wasn't going to steal the ship in its current state. 

The ship was coming up for comms contact again with the group on the planet. If they hadn't hit any snags then they should be ready to teleport up with the rechrondite. Time for Blake to explain why he hadn't given his pilot- his partner- the simplest heads up about their expected visitor. Tarrant wasn't stupid. He knew what Blake would say. It would be some awkwardly apologetic variation on "because I didn't trust your reaction". 

He hated fights with Blake but he couldn't see how this one could be avoided. This wasn't one of those command decisions that he was happy to leave to the group's leader. This was about them. 

Tarrant glared down at the oblivious head at the console below him. What had possessed Blake? Nothing the man could contribute was worth the danger and disruption he represented. Tarrant have every intention of making his views on the matter extremely clear to his husband. It was painful to recognise, but their honeymoon period had just come to a abrupt end.


	4. Mistakes

"Which part of this am I meant to be all right with? The bit where you don't tell your husband that youve been having secret chats with the man who kidnapped you and sold you out to Servalan or the bit where you don't tell your pilot about a close-approach orbital rendezvous? I was this close to breaking cover and grabbing you when I saw his ship coming! We could have half the fleet on our seriously non-functioning tail right now because you thought I didn't need to know what was going on!"

Tatrant glared at Blake's opening mouth. "And don't tell me that you trusted my flying. Trust in me is the one thing that you obviously don't have."

Tarrant had spent what felt like an inordinate amount of time maneuvering the racer into one of the ship's less damaged holds then taking Liberator out of the system on a vector that meant the locals would stay ignorant of their visit. All that time he'd been aware of Blake chatting animatedly to the prodigal son, of Avon settling back in as if he owned the place. By the time he could put the ship on an automatic heading at snail's pace towards their next target and whisk Blake off to their private quarters for this overdue discussion he was half ready to explode with anger and frustration.

"I didn't chat with him, Del. " Blake was using his aggravatingly reasonable voice. "I sent out one call. I had no idea if it had even been received"

"That doesn't matter. Either way you didn't tell me." 

Blake sighed. "You would only have argued."

"Damn right I would have argued! And you know what? I would have had valid arguments that you could have had the grace to at least listen to. Am I not entitled to even disagree with you now?"

"We needed him. The matter wasn't up for discussion." 

"So what did you think I was going to do if you told me that? Mutiny over it?" Tarrant demanded. 

Blake folded his arms "I thought that you were likely to refuse to fly the ship here. None of the rest of us could safely do it, not in her current state."

He probably would have done just that. "So you just took away my choice in the matter?" 

A frustrated hand waved at the ceiling. "There are billions of people out there who can't afford to pay the cost of your feud with Avon, Del! We have so few resources and so much to do." 

"Talking of payment, what's his?" Tarrant snorted at Blake's uncomfortable expression. "Come on, Roj. He doesn't care about your revolution. He's not wearing your ring. He isn't here to do a favour for an old friend. What did you offer him?" 

Blake's hands were now on his hips. "I said he could keep Orac, " he snapped. 

"Orac? As payment for fixing a few loose wires? Don't you think the Cause might need it more than he does?" 

"It made no real difference to us. He already had Orac and he wasn't planning to give it back," Blake said. "It just regularise the position, that's all."

"Oh." Tarrant said bleakly. "I see now. Regularising. This really had nothing much to do with fixing the ship, does it? It's about wiping the slate clean so that you can have him back." 

"Tarrant. Do stop this." Blake pleaded. "Is it any wonder that I couldn't talk to you about what I was doing when any mention of Avon makes you spout this paranoid nonsense? He's here to help with the repairs and I'm grateful for it." 

"Grateful? You're paying him for a couple of days' work with the second most valuable asset in the galaxy, an asset that he had zero compunction about stealing from you! I really don't think you need to feel any gratitude about the transaction."

"This is getting nowhere," Blake said. "I have to make the decisions necessary to keep Liberator going, which right now means that Avon will stay for as long as he's prepared to help us and you will not do anything to force him out. Is that clear?" 

"Perfectly." Tarrant said. He was forcing his voice to stay calm. "Am I allowed one final question?" 

Blake sighed. "What is it?"

"Last time we have this conversation you made it clear that if it came to a choice about one of us staying you'd choose him. I presume that it would be ridiculously naive of me to think that any vows of lifelong fidelity you might have made since then would change that?"

Blake looked at him unhappily. "Please don't ever try to force me to choose between my responsibilities and you." 

 

It hadn't been a very bad argument. Not really. Neither of them had said any of the hurtful, unfair things that would have been easy to regret and difficult to forgive. After all Tarrant did trust Blake, absolutely. He just wished that he could persuade Blake to trust Avon a great deal less than that. 

They had kissed and made up, of course. Orac reappeared on its table and between its calculations and Avon's knowledge of the systems the ship's repairs soon shifted rapidly ahead of Tarrant's original schedule. 

Tarrant talked rather less than usual to anyone on the flight deck and in the rec room, but he watched and listened. Nothing was more certain than that Avon would inevitably betray the ship and Blake for his own advantage at some point. He would have to be there to stop the damage. 

 

"Long range scans are clear. I need to power down all ship systems." Avon said. 'I can give you twenty minutes to prepare. "

Tarrant looked up, startled, from his silent console. The shuttles had sent confirmation that they had reached the gamma-16 heavy dust cloud an hour ago and the rechrondrite on board was being irradiated as planned. 

"We can't shut down the ship while they might need us. For that matter we can't shut down all the ship systems at all, not and survive.'

"Liberator will be running back-ups for life support, comms and long range scan." Avon tapped at his keyboard. "She can power up again near instantaneously. Zen assures me that our response time to an emergency call from the shuttles will be extended by no more that 20 seconds. Given that going near that cloud will damage both Orac and Zen, it's not a scenario we can plan for anyway. They have to get back here on their own."

Tarrant knew that part was true. Gamma-16 radiation might be harmless to humans but when uncontrolled its effect on sophisticated computer circuits was close to lethal. He was keeping the ship as close to the dust cloud as he dared, aware of the vulnerabilities of the two shuttles in the depth of space, but he couldn't take her in there to help without risking Liberator and all of them. 

"We haven't even got Orac." The computer had already gone into what appeared to be hibernation to protect itself from any stray radiation from the cloud. "Now's a ridiculous time to try to make major system changes."

'Now's the rational time," Avon countered. "With only two of us onboard the pressure on the back up life support system will be at a minimum. We're due to go nowhere for seventeen hours while the others are out there. I should be able to get the restart work done in under ten."

Tarrant bit down his automatic refusal. Blake's last request to him (somewhere between a suggestion and a command) had been that he co-operate with Avon' s ongoing repairs. He gestured at the comms unit. 

"Talk to the boss. If he approves it, you can go ahead."

Avon shook his head slightly but he picked up the communicator. "Liberator to Blake."

After a couple of minutes he handed the comm back to Tarrant. 

"Well?" Tarrant asked. 

"Seems that we're going to have to do this shut down at some point." Blake's voice sounded unconcerned. "I agree with Avon that it might as well be now."

There wasn't anything else Tarrant could say, except "Look after yourself out there." 

"Don't worry. There's nothing out here but us and a huge amount of dust. You might as well get some sleep when the power's down." 

"No chance of that," Tarrant said. "Someone has to keep an eye on your mad scientist friend. "

"Mad scientist is probably the most civil thing I've ever heard you call him," Blake sounded amused. "Are you finally thawing a little?" 

Tarrant glanced across at the very slight, annoying quirk on Avon's lips. "I wouldn't recommend that anyone counts on it." 

 

There was another minor dispute when Tarrant discovered that the back up life support would last about eleven hours. "That's a ridiculously small margin of error. No." 

Avon had sighed impatiently. "There is no risk. I told you, nothing I'm doing will prevent Liberator from powering up on command. If the repair time exceeds the available air supply we just restart the main system."

There was no point in referring the matter to the distant shuttle. In the absence of any solid reason not to, Blake would believe whatever Avon told him. "I suppose I have to count on your sense of self preservation. Power her down then."

The next few hours crawled by. With the flight deck the only pressurised area of the ship there was no getting away from each others' company. Avon took much of the panelling off the walls and poked at things industriously while Tarrant monitored the scan which showed nothing of interest, and communications which involved exchanging brief pleasantries with the shuttles every half hour or so. Occasionally Avon would summon him to hold something or take an instrument reading while he prodded things. Since Tarrant could hardly claim that he was too busy he did what he was told without protest. 

Three hours or so of near silence was apparently enough to have Avon missing the sound of his own voice because he started a desultory commentary on what he was doing. 

"Look at this. The front shield matrix was completely destroyed. You were lucky that the ship didn't explode." 

"Lucky would have been no collision at all. '

"Hm," Avon was silent for a while, then "That idea of yours about the teleport was interesting, but reverse engineering it from a couple of bracelets would have been beyond even my capacity." 

"You had Orac." Tarrant pointed out. "I don't underestimate it."

"And why would I want Blake, without the ship?" 

"I don't know why someone like you would want anyone," Tarrant said. "But if you did, I'm pretty sure that you'd take him without asking for permission first." 

Avon looked around at Tarrant from where he knelt on the floor. "Permission from him, or from you?" 

"He did marry me. You can't ignore that forever." 

Avon snorted. "Very well. I'll acknowledge your marriage. I'll even give you some advice on keeping it in one piece. I don't care that you've decided that I'm the Devil incarnate. You've got your reasons, and it makes a change from being continually underestimated. But I'm not the one whose good opinion you have decided to concern yourself with. You're going to have to do better than rehashing the same arguments which failed to convince him six months ago. If you can't, you'd be wiser to shut up."

Tarrant managed a unamused smile. "That's probably the most self serving advice I've ever been given."

Avon shrugged." Take it any way you like, or not at all. Fortunately for me, I have nothing at all invested in the success of your relationship. "

"What I'm more concerned about," Tarrant said bitterly, "is how much you have invested in its failure."

Avon regarded him for a second, brows raised in what might or might not have been genuine surprise. "If you talk like that around him I'd say that you're quite capable of sabotaging your marriage all on your own."

If Avon's voice was capable of sincerity, Tarrant had long since ceased to be able to tell. He knew that on the surface what the other man was said was reasonable. Nothing was more corrosive than jealousy and doubt. 

But this was Avon, who had betrayed them all for his own purposes. If the opposite of jealous was trust, well, Tarrant didn't trust him an inch. 

He threw up his hands in frustration. "If you really want to help, just tell me what I need to do to get rid of you!"

Instead of the expected laugh he got a considering glance from the man. "I might just do that. Not yet though. Blake's paying me to clear up your mess and we still have work to do."

 

"Everything's fine here." Cally's voice floated over the comm. "We're just going to..." The voice cut out 

"Cally?" Tarrant called, then "Blake! Shuttles! Respond please!" 

Nothing. 

"Our comms or theirs?" Avon demanded. 

A glance at the internals of the back up answered that one. "Ours. Most of the components have melted; must have been a hell of a surge in the backup power system. We were lucky it didn't take the life support out as well. Better get the ship back up."

"This is not a good time." Avon indicated the wiring extruded from the open service panels. "If she starts up at the moment half a dozen systems will blow out straight away."

"No more than twenty seconds additional response time, you said!" 

"In an emergency, which lost comm isn't. They can survive without talking to us for the half an hour it will take to tidy this lot up." 

"And if I say they can't?"

"Then you can be the one to explain to Blake how your chronic separation anxiety has broken bits of his ship again."

"I do not have separation anxiety," Tarrant hissed. "I just know from bitter experience that everything always goes wrong the minute people are out of touch. What about your racer? That's got comms."

"The hold is inaccessible with the power out." 

"Of course it would be. You misled me," Tarrant said. "And you misled Blake. If you keep doing this he'll lose faith eventually." 

"Blake won't go to pieces about the ship not talking to him for a while." Avon seemed unconcerned. "He's got the other shuttle as back up and one thing I will say for him, he's as resilient as they come. Thirty minutes."

 

The explosion took Tarrant completely by surprise, flinging him against the back wall, heat burning his face. He got to his feet, the flight deck shrouded under clouds of thick grey smoke. 

"Avon? What the hell was that?" 

"I think it was probably a mistake." Avon's voice broke up in coughing. Tarrant recovered his console and checked on the two working systems. Still working. Life support should clear the smoke, as long as nothing was on fire. 

As the air cleared, it seemed than nothing was. Avon's face and hands were blackened with soot but he didn't appear noticeably injured. 

"What sort of mistake?" 

"A serious one." Avon stood, hands on hips, and surveyed what was left of the area he'd been working on. He coughed again, wiped soot away from his eyes, then took a deep breath of the cleaner air rushing in. "Here goes nothing. Zen. Restore all systems." 

Nothing happened. 

"Fuck." Avon said, almost conversationally, and limped to a console. Tarrant could see him punching the general restore code in. 

Nothing happened again. 

"You've broken her." Tarrant said, disbelieving. 

"I've certainly broken something. With any luck it's just the power up system." 

"With any luck? If we can't power up we're dead in the air!" 

"If it's just that we might find a way to bypass it. If Zen's more drastically damaged, things might be difficult." 

"Hell." Tarrant said. He was realising how little he knew about the ship when the automatic report systems were unavailable. There was a big hole where a whole lot of wiring and components had been but what damage that might represent in terms of Liberator's many functions was a complete mystery to him. "You'd better tell me exactly what you've done" 

Avon told him, which was depressing in itself. Tarrant would much have preferred it if the man had insisted that he was too busy fixing things to talk, but Avon hadn't touched anything since the reset codes had failed. 

What had happened was not particularly complicated. A circuit had been mistaken for a different one and a great deal more power had been passed through it than it would take, a error both understandable and, it turned out, catastrophic. 

"Right. Things are bad. So what do you think we should do?" Tarrant asked.

He thought Avon looked slightly startled under the soot stains. Maybe he'd been expecting something louder, but Tarrant wasn't that much of a hypocrite. "Assuming Zen is not badly damaged, it's still functioning, just disconnected, " Avon said. "We need to find a way to communicate with it." He looked around the flight deck rather hopelessly. 

"How about Orac?" Tarrant suggested. 

Avon flickered what looked like a genuine smile at him. "Actually that might work. Orac's just waiting for an external trigger to wake up." 

"What sort of trigger?"

"I haven't the faintest idea. We'll have to figure it out between us. And quickly, I'd suggest. The back up life support wasn't designed to deal with cleaning up after explosions. I very much doubt that we're going to get anything like eleven hours breathable air out of it now. "


	5. Postmortems

The first green speck on the monitor had drawn far away from the second: a shuttle accelerating at the top of its range. By Tarrant's rough computerless calculation it would arrive back at Liberator in just over 90 minutes, running on nothing much but fumes. The second was on a far more economical vector. Tarrant had no doubt of which shuttle his husband was on. Avon’s forecast of Blake’s under-reaction had been wrong. The others had started on a course back within minutes of the comms going down.

Both shuttles were going to arrive too late. Despite all the efforts of both men on the ship Orac would not be woken. Zen would not be contacted and the oxygen supply in the life support was all but exhausted. 

“Nothing’s changed,” he told Avon. “Still an hour and a half out.”

“Have you any ideas at all that would help?” Avon demanded. “Any last ditch plans that you’re saving?”

“None, I’m afraid.” 

“What about that?” Avon’s gaze switched past Tarrant’s ear, his voice unexpectedly animated. Tarrant turned with a stab of hope to look at the door behind him, but it was still sealed shut. “I don’t see anything...” He turned back again. “Oh.”

“You’ve got no ideas. I’ve got one. Maximising the remaining air supply.”

“Have you any idea what Blake will do if you kill me?” Tarrant’s voice was steady but his eyes were on the trigger. 

“I intend to at least try to stay alive long enough to find out. After that I’ll have to take my chance. I may already have left it too late.” 

“Don’t...” Tarrant started but now he could see the movement of Avon’s curled finger and his attempt at a dive away was futile.

 

“Don’t try to move.”

Tarrant did, of course, with little success. His limbs felt like lead weights and even his eyelids were immovable.

“Don’t fight it, Del. Everything’s all right. You’ve just been under for a long time. Take it easy and you’ll be running around in no time.”

Blake’s voice sounded unstressed. Now Tarrant could feel the warmth of a hand in his. His heartbeat gradually slowed to something like normal and he found that he could open his eyes after all.

“Welcome back,” Blake’s tone was fond. “No, don’t try to sit up. Not yet. How are you feeling?”

“Avon shot me,” Tarrant said, in case there was any doubt about the matter.

“I know.”

“He was going to kill me.”

“He did.” Blake said. “He stopped your heart with an electric bolt, wrapped your body up in plastic film and put it out of the disposal chute into cold vacuum. The instant freeze prevented the usual postmortem synaptic damage and once the ship was functioning again the med unit was able to restart your heart and repair the extensive physical damage.” He paused. “He claims that he saved your life.”

Tarrant had to struggle upwards to sitting in order to reply to that. “He claims what?”

“By shooting you he undoubtedly saved his own.” Blake said. “By the time we got in he was unconscious. Another couple of minutes without oxygen and he’d have been unrevivable. If you’d both been there you’d have run out of oxygen much earlier.”

Tarrant tried and failed to imagine being dead. “I want to talk to him.” 

“He’s gone.” Blake said flatly.

So Avon had walked out on them yet again. No surprise there. Tarrant was tempted to ask what he’d stolen this time, but Blake looked so bleak. He could afford some sympathy for his husband’s feelings, if not for the man who had hurt them. 

He squeezed the hand, just a little. “So tell me, what state is the ship in?”

It was a couple of days until he was allowed up to see for himself. The first thing he saw on the flight deck was Orac, lights flashing in an energetic manner. Its perspex box showed no sign of the damage they’d caused in trying to wake it; Tarrant thought maybe someone had made it a new one. He wondered whether to ask Blake how it came to still be there, but that would necessarily involve a conversation about Avon and he didn’t want one of those. 

The hole caused by Avon’s explosion was repaired, the panelling cracked and taped together in places. Tarrant had been unconscious for two weeks, Blake had said. He hadn’t told Tarrant how long he had stayed dead for, and Tarrant hadn’t asked. The whole idea of having died- of having been killed- left him both queasy and oddly nervous about the idea of having anyone with a gun around him. He would have to get over that soon enough if he was to be any use to Blake at all. 

Back to repairs. Blake’s former impatience with the whole process had been replaced with a level of caution that bothered Tarrant a little. There was no question of shutting Zen down again; instead the completed works were integrated slowly, sub system by subsystem. The whole thing was laborious and although having Orac helped, there were several points at which Tarrant found himself thinking that it would be so much easier if they had Avon back again. Then he’d remember that gun pointed at his chest and he’d get back to trying to figure out whatever the problem was by himself.

 

The prickle of stubble under Blake’s palm was simultaneously uncomfortable and comforting. Much to his dismay, Tarrant had been resurrected smooth skinned and utterly hairless and he had not credited his husband’s claims to find it sexy. It had been a worryingly long time before anything had started to regrow. Now he tended to itch but it was a small price to pay for the dark shadow of returning hair in all the right places again. 

He deliberately let his partner’s overtures get a little more demanding before he rolled over and set himself to satisfying them. Something about what had happened had changed him. He’d lost the confidence of knowing that in all the time he’d been in combat no-one had ever managed to land the killing shot. Blake’s desire and need for him were lifelines that he was clinging to in a sea of uncertainty. He was exploiting them and he knew that he had to learn how to stop. 

“You’re worrying again,” Blake said, afterwards. “That’s my job.”

“I think we should run a final test on all Liberator’s systems tomorrow.”

“Final? The repairs aren’t finished.”

“There are a few bits left but nothing mission critical. If the main systems check out we can leave those for the self repairs to deal with.” He turned to face Blake. “It’s time for you to get your ship back. It’s time for all of us to do something. Much longer and we’ll have forgotten how it’s done.” 

Blake nodded, reached out to slide his fingers through Tarrant’s short haired scalp. “I rather like this, you know. It makes you look a little bit dangerous.”

Tarrant had been feeling anything but. “You want me to drop the bandanna?”

“It’s up to you. But I don’t think you need it any more. You look - well, like you again. Less curls, that’s all, and they’ll grow back soon enough.”

Soon enough there would be no trace of what had happened, no trace on the ship, no trace on him.

“How bad was it?” he asked, because he thought that Blake needed to tell him. 

“Bad,” Blake said. “We found you first. You’d been out there some time; your body was as cold as the space around you and- well, not pretty. Dead. It wasn’t until we woke Avon up that we found out that you might be saved. Then there was quite a long time when we didn’t know if it would work or not. It was not something I’d willingly go through again.”

“Sounds like I had the easier time of it,” Tarrant said. 

“I doubt that.” Blake said. There was a silence. “If you want to talk about it?”

“No, thank you.” Tarrant said. Not now, not ever. He wasn’t stupid. He didn’t need to be told again what the outcome would have been if Avon had stayed his hand. It wasn’t ever going to make any difference to how he felt about it. 

He was long past the stage of trying to persuade Blake of anything when it came to Avon. If the man came back, he’d deal with him. If he didn’t, Tarrant would never mention his name again. 

 

“Go left,” he said in a low voice. The gun jabbed hard between Avon’s shoulderblades and he went left, into an empty side street. 

“May I turn round now?” he asked in a steady tone.

“Go on.” 

“Tarrant!” There was genuine astonishment in his voice.

“Surprised to see me?” Tarrant kept the gun on him as he glanced up and down the alley. 

“Given that last time I saw you you were dead, I am somewhat, yes. I’m pleased to see you’ve made a a full recovery. What are you looking for?”

“Somewhere to stash your body,” Tarrant said. “I’m on a diplomatic mission here and it wouldn’t do to be arrested for murder.” 

“I don’t think that’s going to be necessary.” Avon said.

“Then you’re wrong. There gets to be a point where letting you stay alive any longer given your track record would just be insane and we passed it some time ago.”

Avon sighed, “I have no intention of ever going near your ship or your husband again, Tarrant. I have no interest in your mission. This is an accidental meeting, no more. We might as well just walk away from each other right now.”

“You’re missing the point.” There didn’t seem to be any cubby holes here. Tarrant would just have to take Avon somewhere else to do it. “What you intend to do is irrelevant. I have no reason not to kill you. None at all.” 

“You’re not a killer in cold blood, Del Tarrant. You never have been. And nothing I’ve done has ever caused you or Blake any lasting harm, for all that you’ve disapproved of it.”

Tarrant felt that he was resisting pulling the trigger with some difficulty. “Lasting harm? What were the chances of my being successfully revived, Avon, after you shot me?”

Avon shrugged. “Considerably higher than the chances of us both surviving another ninety minutes on the remaining oxygen supply. I had to do something or die. I gave you the best chance I could, and it worked.” 

“You could have shot yourself instead,” Tarrant hissed. 

“I wanted to live myself rather more than I wanted you to live. That I confess freely, if you are after confessions.”

“We could have discussed the situation, come to some sort of agreement.”

“I very much doubt that,” Avon said. “Neither of us are the self sacrificing type. You might have taken the risk for Blake, but for me? Hardly. We would still have been arguing when the air ran out, either that or one of us would have killed the other in a way that didn’t allow for revival.”

Tarrant felt sick to his stomach, but he wanted this done, for good or otherwise. The mission would just have to be abandoned. “Is that all you’ve got? Because it’s not enough.” 

Avon considered his face. All the arrogance had gone from his own. “He’s trying the impossible. You know that. He’s going to call on me at some point. I’m going to be the difference between his success and his failure.”

“And why should I believe that you’ll come when he needs you?”

Avon sighed. “Oh, I’ll come. And not because you’re pointing that gun at me. I thought you’d worked that one out already.”

“Get out.” Tarrant said. “And get off planet. If we have any more accidental meetings I might shoot first and talk afterwards.” 

When Tarrant was sure that the man was gone, he put a hand against the nearest wall to support his sagging weight. His hands were shaking so much that it took three attempts to holster his gun. He stood there for several minutes, doing nothing. Eventually he pushed himself upright and went off to do the mission that Blake had asked of him, because it was Blake who had asked it.


	6. Always Hope

Something big was coming, Tarrant thought. Blake didn’t have that look on his face for anything minor. Beside him Cally was positively glowing. She knew what it was and she was wholeheartedly in favour.

“Right,” Blake said to the remaining three of them. “I know we’ve been working our arses off on getting the antidote to the right places. I also know that some of you,” he raised an eyebrow at Tarrant, “haven’t been convinced by my explanation of why we have to treat every affected planet at once, or why we haven’t let any of them know the true scale of the operation. The last stockpiles are in place, the saboteurs are standing by and now I’m going to tell you what the plan is.”

He had his audience’s complete attention. “Go on,” Tarrant said as the pause lengthened.

Blake pulled an image up on screen- their part of the galaxy, with two score or so scattered systems marked in red. “These are the planets we are using the antidote on, in two days time. Now we are going to contact our allies. All of them. Anyone who’s ever expressed sympathy for our cause. That’s why I’ve been such a tyrant about insisting that we collect contact details for months. That’s a lot of people out there, and it’s time for them to do something. We are going to ask most of them to support and encourage rebellion- rioting, if you prefer- on the antidote systems local to them. Cally’s in charge of that; she’s got more experience and skills in this area than any of us. Cally?”

Cally’s face was serious but her eyes were still gleaming. “The locals may have all sorts of aims; revenge, to take control of their planets, to destroy the drugs supply, to keep themselves safe, to hunt down the local leaders who betrayed them. Some of them will be pacifists, some very aggressive. We have one aim only; to destroy as much of the Federation military complex on these planets as we possibly can.” 

“To kill troops,” Tarrant translated.

“Do you have a problem with that?” she demanded.

It was war. “No. But even with every ally we might get, we don’t have the force to protect more than a handful of planets. The Federation reprisals against unarmed civilians are going to be horrific.” 

“I’m counting on it,” Blake said grimly. “Within two days the bulk of the Federation forces should be out there repressing the riots and taking their planets back. That’s when the rest of our allies, the ones we can really trust, the ones who have any sort of significant fighting force, join us for the attack on Earth.”

There was a stunned silence. All their focus for months had been on combating the Pylene 50, slowing the spread of Federation outward expansion. Blake hadn’t even hinted at this. 

It was reckless in the extreme, Tarrant thought, and probably the best chance they were ever going to get. The current Supreme Commander had shown no signs of his predecessor’s subtlety. He hadn’t needed to be particularly intelligent, not with Pylene 50 doing most of the military’s work for them. 

“You’ve run this past Orac, of course,” he said. 

“In every possible configuration. They will pull most of their forces away from Earth in response to widespread rioting on the outer systems. We’ve been off their radar for months now and they think we’ve given up or been destroyed. Who else might pose a risk to Earth Central? There’s no-one.”

They had all thought that Blake had become over cautious in the last half year; everyone except Vila had said so, repeatedly. There had been a number of opportunities to take out pursuit ships or back up rebels and he’d refused to engage in any of them. Their focus, he’d said, had to be on developing the Pylene antidote and nothing else. It hadn’t quite got to the stage of mutiny but none of them had been happy. 

It was Blake. Of course there had been a plan. 

“You could have told us earlier,” Dayna complained. 

Blake sighed. “Everyone we’ve been delivering the antidote to thinks that they can count on us to try to protect them from the consequences. Instead we’re going to leave them all to be slaughtered as a direct result of what we’ve persuaded them to do. I wasn’t going to ask any of you to take on that burden for as long as I could avoid it. Now I need your help.”

Blake had been the one who had inspired those from the affected planets to risk their lives to put his plans into action. He'd persuaded then that living under Pylene 50 was worse than any alternative, that their people really could rise up in successful rebellion once the drug was out of their systems, that there was hope, always that there was hope. And all the time he'd intended to use those brave impossible rebellions to bait his enemies away from his path. 

Tarrant ached with love and misery for him. "Some of those rebel units are pretty tough. They'll hold out till we take Earth Central," he offered. 

A flicker of a smile was Blake's acknowledgement of his support. "They might," was all he said. 

 

There was no question but that they would follow Blake's plan. It was after all what the whole thing had been about from the start. Nobody asked what Orac's assessment of their chances were and Blake didn't volunteer the information. 

Orac itself was being remarkably co-operative; it even consented to run multiple comms channels simultaneously so that they could make the scores of calls they needed. Blake hovered around then like an over zealous work supervisor, ready to take over any call which didn't seem to be achieving its goal and bring the full force of his personality onto the person on the other side. That usually worked. 

They'd done all the calls to people who could help out the individual rebellions and they'd stopped for food and a bit of a rest. Orac was streaming the early Federation reports onto the main screen, which reported satisfyingly chaotic scenes from at least half the affected systems. Cally was still on her feet, co-ordinating actions where she could. 

"Just ten calls left to make," Blake said. "But we need all of them. Tarrant, you can talk to the Warlords. I think I'd better do the others." 

Tarrant snorted. "You're welcome to one of them, at least." He’d been wondering how to raise this particular topic for a while, ever since he’d checked the first list and, as expected, found the name missing. Now would have to do.

Blake grinned at him. He seemed far more relaxed now that the whole thing had started. "Who have you fallen out with?" 

There was no help but to go for it. “I know you need him. Just... keep me out of his way. Please.” 

“Him?” Blake looked bemused. “You mean Avon? He’s not on any list of mine.”

It was Tarrant’s turn to look bewildered. “Why on Earth not? You need every ally you can get, Blake, whatever I might think about them.”

Blake’s expression had gone from confused to angry. “I told you. He’s not on the list.” He stood up, muttered a brief apology to the others and stalked off the flight deck.

Tarrant stood up as well, momentarily uncertain of what he should do. “What the hell?” he said aloud, and to the others. “He needs Avon! You know he does!”

“It doesn’t make any difference,” Vila said.”It’s not possible. Not after the things Blake said to him. You didn’t hear him, for obvious reasons, but trust us. It’s not going to happen.”

"Cally managed to get Avon away while Blake was getting you into the med unit." Dayna said." If she hadn't I don't know what would have happened. We’re not sure that he'd even made it on his own - he was very weak, but he reckoned he'd had a better chance out there than with Blake if you didn't recover."

"Blake didn't tell me any of this," Tarrant said, bewildered. "I thought Avon had just walked out on him again. It makes no difference though. We still need his help." 

"He won't come," Dayna insisted. "Why would he? You didn't hear them, Tarrant. It wasn't the sort of a quarrel you patch up afterwards."

Tarrant shook his head "I need to find Blake,,"he said.

He found his husband sitting next to the silent med unit. Blake glanced up as he came in.

"I spent a long time here, " he said. "Every spare minute that I could find. You were a shape in there, and I was sitting out here, waiting. "

Tarrant sat down next to him. "I made it," he said.

"You did." He paused. "Do you know what I thought about, sitting here?"

"I could come up with some ideas," 

"I thought about how if I'd listened to all the times you warned me about Kerr Avon, he wouldn't have been on my ship at my invitation when he shot you in the chest at close range without provocation. I thought about that a great deal."

"I can't disagree with you about that."

"There's a 'but' coming," Blake said. "I can tell from that tone."

"But you need him, Blake. More than you've ever needed him before. Call him. Please."

Blake looked at him and there was pain in his eyes now. "I can't, Del. Even if I wanted to. Too much has happened. It's far too late for that."

"It's not too late. If you call, he'll come."

"And how could you possibly know that?"

"Because that's what he promised me."

"Promised you?" That was almost a genuine laugh. "You never cease to amaze me, Del. After all this time you've suddenly decided that his word is worth something?" 

"I'm a good judge of character," Tarrant said a little more cheerfully. "And this time I happen to believe him, and I'll be damned if I'm going to be the reason this fails. Call him, Roj."

 

It wasn't a long conversation but it seemed to exhaust Blake utterly. As he closed off the comm Tarrant saw the face of a defeated man, and for a moment he thought that he'd got the whole thing terribly wrong. Then Blake said "He's coming," in a flat voice. 

Tarrant disregarded their usual habit of discretion on the flight deck to kiss Blake . "Thank you, " he said quietly. Whatever happened now, whatever small difference one man could make, the lack of something that might keep Blake alive would not be his doing. 

He had been so focussed on the necessity of Avon's summons that he had barely thought about what would happen when the man arrived. 

 

The Liberator was nearly deserted. The others had been scattered where they were needed among their small fleet and just Tarrant and Blake remained, Tarrant in charge of the attack and Blake of course being Blake. Tarrant was trying to organise attack vectors for a hundred ships of highly variable performance and even with Orac it was proving challenging. He looked up from his console eventually, and noticed the quality of the silence. Not Blake's sort of companionable hush. Slowly he turned around. 

"Show me your attack plans." Avon said. 

"Orac's optimised them," he said. 

"Orac doesn't know everything. Show me." 

If he wasn’t going to trust the man that far he shouldn’t have got him here. Tarrant pulled them up on the main screen. Avon studied them for a moment, then he walked over to Orac and inserted a data stick. "Update Zen and the map," he told it. 

To Tarrant's dismay a dozen neutral green observation stations across the Solar System started flashing an ominous dark red. "What the hell are those?" he demanded. 

"It's a new planetary defense system. Entirely off grid; the Federation knew enough about Orac to know they had to keep it that way. Zen, show the capacities of each station on screen."

Tarrant stared at the figures. "Fuck. We'd have lost three quarters of our fleet before we got inside Jupiter orbit. How the hell did you get this data?" 

"How do you think?" Avon said dryly. 

For 's moment Tarrant couldn't work out what he meant. Then enlightenment dawned. "You've been working for the Feds." 

"It's a living." Avon said lightly. "You might want to ask Orac for some revised attack plans, by the way." 

Tarrant had been about to send most of the rebel fleet within range of a state of the art defense grid. If he hadn't found out in time... If Avon hadn't come... It didn't bear thinking about. 

Avon was thinking it. Avon had that half smug, half defiant expression than said "just you try getting rid of me this time," and it occurred to Tarrant than maybe Blake hadn't told Avon where the impetus to call him had come from. 

That suited Tarrant just fine. Let the bastard believe he had to watch his back every minute he was here. He might be necessary but he was not fucking welcome, not after everything he'd done. Tarrant smiled at him, just a little, with bared teeth. 

At that point Blake walked in. From his stride Tarrant could tell that he was expecting trouble. He knew Avon was here. It didn't stop him ignoring him to speak instead to Tarrant. *Is everything all right?" 

"Avon's brought new information about Earth's defences. We're going to have to rework the attack plans." 

That clearly wasn't the sort of trouble Blake was expecting. He stopped short. "Let me see." 

Tarrant let Avon talk him through the data he'd brought in clipped, unemotional terms. The point scoring would wait. This wouldn't. 

"Right," Blake said at last. "Well, fortunately we've got the time we need to change plans. We've just heard that the main fleet isn't due to leave the solar system for another ten hours. Space Command has really become quite incompetent since Servalan disappeared." He turned to Avon." Have you got anything else for us? 

"Why, wasn't that enough?" Avon enquired. 

"Don't push me," Blake said "I don't even know what you're doing here."

"Answering the call," Avon retorted. "Isn't that what all your disciples do?" 

"At some point, when no-one else is in earshot, I suggest you ask Orac what our chances are." Blake said. "That should cure you of unnecessary flippancy. Tarrant, get new plans from Orac. I need to talk to the group leaders urgently."

"And what should I do?" Avon asked. 

"Right now? Be anyone but Kerr Avon." Blake said. "Failing that, give Tarrant what help you can. I'm sorry, Del. If I had another use for him I'd choose it."

"I'll manage," Tarrant said 

It was a long time later when he finally ran through the completed new plans. "They'll have to do."

There was silence from beside him. He realised that Avon had spoken about nothing but the task they had being working on since Blake left the room. 

"Surely you won't expecting a warmer welcome?" he said, only half tauntingly.

"I thought that perhaps what I brought with me might have bought a little civility," Avon said. "But I should have remembered how much influence you have over him."

"You were warned. About ten seconds before you killed me."

"Yet here we both are arguing over it," Avon said.

"That's not the point. It's never going to be the point, not for me and not for him. Some things just can't be measured by fortunate outcomes and shooting a friend in the chest is one of those."

"Were we friends?" Avon seemed genuinely curious.

"Us? Never. But I think for a long time Blake considered you his closest friend. He doesn't any more, obviously."

"Obviously," Avon echoed. "Well, we ought to clear these plans with him and get them distributed while there's still time to implement them. It would be disappointing to die in a general rout when we could die in a heroic assault instead."

"Sorry you came yet?" Tarrant couldn't resist the dig. 

Avon gave him a cold look. “Blake was a fool not to call me earlier. We haven’t nearly enough time to do this properly. I suggest that you get him up here while we still have an outside chance.”


	7. Talking

Blake nodded as the simulation finished.

"We'll get it out to the others. Attack in ten hours time." He turned to go.

"Wait." Avon said. "There's something else you need to see. Orac, run the simulation of the previous attack plan reaching the hidden defense grid."

"I haven't got time for this," Blake said.

"It will take one minute, and it's information you need." 

Blake watched the screen grimly as the ships blinked out of existence. When the icon representing Liberator was destroyed he winced.

"Am I supposed to be grateful that you've decided that you're on our side?" he demanded. 

"You've missed the point as usual." Avon said. He indicated the screen. "In a little over twelve hours time you, your revolution, everyone you care about and the whole point of your life is going to go up in flames. Not Tarrant, of course.He's long dead. You've been a widower for the last nine months."

"Stop." That was a dark warning. Avon ignored it. 

"None of your friends are sure how much of this heroic action is born out of near suicidal grief. Theyll follow you all the way to their flaming deaths but they don't really believe in you, not any more. Without Tarrant beside you you're not the man you were." Avon's voice was matter of fact. 

Blake was toe to toe with him now, almost spitting into his face, " What the hell do you think you're playing at?"

"I'm giving you a glimpse of the world you wanted. The one in which you can console yourself that everyone behaved with decency and decorum. The one in which the Federation wins."

"Don't you dare pretend you did the right thing!" Blake snarled at him. 

"I don't need to pretend anything. If I'd died right here nine months ago, if he had died here, you can see what the consequences would have been."

"He did die." 

"He didn't die!" Avon's voice was raised now. "Death is bleak and terrible and the med unit doesn't bring it back, not ever. I put his life at great hazard, without asking his permission first, a great deal more hazard than my own, and because I did we both survived."

He glared at Blake. "I don't expect you to be happy about my decisions but I am tired of being treated like a murderer when my supposed victim is standing right in front of me."

For a moment Tarrant thought there might be violence. Then Blake shook his head. "I haven't got time for this," he said again. "Tarrant, get onto the comm, please." 

 

"I did tell you that wouldn't work." Tarrant said to Avon. It was the calm before the storm, waiting for the last few elements of the departing Federation fleet to get far enough away that they couldn't get back when the assault started. "You've tried gifts, you've tried reason, you've tried shouting. What's next?"

"I thought I might try a fifth column." Avon said. 

"And who would your fifth columnist be?" 

Avon smiled at him briefly. 

"Me?" Tarrant stared at him. "Why on earth would you think I'm on your side?" 

"He certainly didn't call me of his own volition. I'm guessing that was you." 

"That wasn't for your benefit. It was for his."

"And won't this be for his benefit?" Avon asked 

"This is ludicrous." Tarrant said. "I spent years just trying to get him to see you as you are."

"And that's all I'm asking you to do now," Avon said. "Nothing more."

"You've never deigned to ask me for anything before. Is this you admitting defeat?" 

"Perhaps." Avon said. "I admit, at least, that I was too quick to dismiss you as unimportant."

"Don't try flattery. You didn't think I was anything to him," Tarrant said. "Not even a rival. Just a pet. Now you're reduced to begging me to argue your corner for you in the hope that he'll speak to you kindly once more before the end." 

"And will you or not? " 

Tarrant considered the other man, always remembering the raised gun. He was alive. He'd said that didn't matter but when it came down to it how could you disregard being alive? 

"Orac," he said. "What were the odds of my successful revival after Avon dumped my body out of the airlock nine months ago." 

"I fail to see how such a calculaion could be remotely significant to the current situation." Orac said. 

"Just tell him, Orac, " Avon said. 

Orac named a figure. It was low but it wasn't as low as the number in Tarrant's head, the one that he'd decided arbitrarily would make the difference between plausible hope and a complete disregard for what would happen to him. 

He sighed. "If there's time. And not one word beyond the bare truth. I certainly don't owe you any more than that." 

Avon managed a slight smile. "For once the bare truth will have to do."

 

"Look at this:" 

As Tarrant joined his husband on the flight deck he briefly wondered where Avon was, then forgot everything but the map on the screen. 

"Is that really it?" The display showed barely half the expected number of Federation ships left in the solar system. 

"That's all that's left. They must be counting heavily on the new defense grid." Blake turned to him, smiling. "We might just do this, Del." 

Tarrant thought of all the extra gunships on their way to Cally and her barely armed rebels.  He wrapped his arms around Blake's shoulders and hugged him. "Yes we might."

He'd made a promise of sorts. He said quietly, "This time Avon came through." 

Blake stiffened in his arms. "I can't forgive him." 

"Would it make any difference if I told you I could?" Tarrant said. 

There was a snort. "I might have known he'd work out that you were the one he needed to get to eventually. What does he want?" 

"Not to be hated, I think." Tarrant said. 

"I think I preferred it when he was just demanding my ship. Do you really think he means it?" 

"He's done more than any of us to give you a chance to win. Why else did he come?"

Blake sighed, "Guilt, I assumed."

"Guilt for what? All his crazy risks panned out. We're all here. Kerr Avon's not going to feel sorry till he kills someone for keeps and probably not then. Trust me, he's not here to make amends for anything." 

"So why did he come then?" 

"He's here for the same reason as I made you get him here, because if there's any chance of doing something that will keep you alive we're both going to take it." 

Blake's voice was cynical. "Now you're being too trusting. He's nothing like you, Del." 

Tarrant laughed at that with genuine amusement. "Of course he is. Why do you think we get along so badly?" 

"You wouldn't have done the things he did."

"Maybe not, but I've done my share of other pretty terrible things. So have you. I don't think I could have brought myself to shoot him in cold blood to save my life but then dying didn't seem to be a particularly brilliant plan either." 

He took a breath, hugged the man closer. "You found my dead body floating in space. I know that's got to be the sort of shock you never really get over. I know that was Avon's doing. If you can't forgive him for that I'm certainly not going to be the one to tell you that's unreasonable."

"So if not that, what are you saying?" 

"That if you can forgive him, now would be a good time to do it." 

Blake twisted to look round at him. "The bastard knew exactly what he was doing when he got you on his side. All right. If it's important to you I'll talk to him. We haven't got much time and I don't promise anything, but I'll talk." 

 

Tarrant was at the comm yet again, talking the other ships through the final distribution of Earth's defenses. Blake and Avon were in the room off the flight deck. He ignored the occasional raised voices. They wouldn't kill each other, not now, and in any case he'd quietly but firmly removed Avon's gun before ushering him in to talk to Blake. 

Fifteen minutes before Liberator was due to move. At least this was distracting Blake. As soon as they moved he'd be back on deck and utterly focussed regardless of what the man was saying to him, but for now there was nothing to do but wait and Tarrant knew how much Blake hated the waiting before action. As for Tarrant, he had just wanted to spend what might be their last short time together. Did Avon know how much his chance to be forgiven cost? 

Silence from the other room now. Tarrant briefly wondered if Avon might make the move that he'd failed to make for so many years. He'd be an idiot to try it. Blake would truly roast him for throwing that in his lap ten minutes before the most crucial mission of his entire life.

Tarrant didn't think he'd do it anyway, not now. If Avon had learned one thing it must be the folly of putting himself up directly against Tarrant for Blake's regard, and in the remaning few minutes there was no time for a more subtle approach. 

Voices over the comm wished each other good luck. Tarrant just wished the last five minutes finally up. 

Here they came at last, each straight to a console, Avon on weapons, Blake on comms and scan. 

"Let's do this," Blake said, not just to him but to the whole fleet scattered around Earth sector. "Tarrant, take us in. Take us home to Earth at last." 


	8. Deals

Blake's revolution had come to Earth and its people were cowering in terror. 

Tarrant didn't blame them. He'd found the battle terrifying and he'd been in the fastest and best shielded ship in the whole affair. What it had been like to be under a Dome he couldn't even imagine, even one of the ones that weren't now gaping open to the raw elements. 

It had been anything but a surgical strike. They hadn't had the firepower, the manpower or most of all the time to land troops and take down the heart of the Federation guilty member by guilty member. So they took those they had to take out from the air. They would mourn the collateral damage later. 

The Federation defence had fought back fiercely, and too many ships on both sides had ended up flaming through the atmosphere. Two of those had hit Domes. No-one had even started to estimate those casualties yet. 

Still they had won the battle. The higher echelons of the Federation were dead, and the bulk of Solar Systems military forces and installations, those that hadn't surrendered, were in cinders. There was no-one left to challenge Blake's claim to be in charge which could only mean that they'd won. 

It was temporary, of course, unless they could do something about the rest of the fleet that was now charging back towards Earth, distracted from its missions against the rioting worlds by the catastrophe to hit the Federation.

Tarrant had been utterly horrified to find out that with Blake fully occupied in restoring some sort of order in Earth and trying to persuade its people that his interim government was there for their benefit, the job of stopping a hostile fleet six times the size of his war-battered one fell entirely to him. 

"This is Commander Del Tarrant of Earth flagship Liberator to Admiral Denby of Earth Main Fleet. Come in please." 

He knew they could hear him. Thanks to Orac his voice was being broadcast throughout every Federation ship. He repeated the hail three times before he got an answer. 

"This is Admiral Denby of the Federation fleet. We know who you are, Del Tarrant. We don't negotiate with rebel scum." 

"The Federation no longer exists." Tarrant said. "None of us are rebels now. I'm sending you files about the change of authority and the new interim government. They will explain what actions we've taken and how we intend to proceed for the benefit of everyone in the ex-federation." 

He took a breath. "Roj Blake, leader of the revolution and interim Earth president has authorised me to negotiate to bring your fleet into the new command structure for the benefit of everyone serving in it and the people they serve. I can offer a large number of ironclad assurances for you and your people, including a total amnesty for all actions taken under the old regime and complete retention of the current chain of command as well as direct personal benefits to every fleet member." 

Blake hadn't liked the amnesty at all, nor keeping the current leadership in charge.

"These people have committed terrible crimes," he'd insisted. "How will anyone trust us if we allow them to run our military, Tarrant?" 

Avon had backed Tarrant up, for once. "They are the ones with the ships and guns. We're not in a position to do anything but offer bribes, and those bribes have to go right to the top. Reforming the military will have to wait until we actually have a power base."

Amnesty didn't seem sufficient of a bribe for Denby, who clearly had visions of a new Federation with himself in charge. Tarrant kept cheerfully reciting offers and promises into the expletive marked silence. There were ten thousand troops out there and each of them was listening.

He reached the final point, the one that might tip the balance. "We know that everyone on your ships must be worried about their friends and family at home, whether on Earth or elsewhere. We know you all want to be able to check in person that they are all right, and to help them as much as you can. That's why Interim President Blake has authorised an additional month's leave of paid absence for every singe member of Earth forces of whatever rank, to be taken as operations permit but guaranteed to be within the next 4 months, and a one off bonus of 20% of your annual pay." 

That was it. That was all he had. The troopers he'd known would have snapped his hand off for such an alternative to battle, but no promise was worth anything if they didn't trust the messenger. Tarrant added the last bit, the bit he hadn't cleared with Blake first. "I will personally be bringing the agreement papers out to your flagship, giving me a chance to meet some of the brave and loyal people of the Earth Main Fleet. " 

It had to be done and obviously Blake couldn't go. If they kidnapped or killed Tarrant nothing would be over, except for him of course. He signed off with the polite request for an answer within three hours and sagged back into his chair. 

"I don't know if it will work." 

He was meant to have aides but the system was chaotic. At the moment he just seemed to have Avon, who had wandered in to listen to the negotiations. 

"Still better odds than fighting." Avon said. "When are you planning to tell Blake that you're taking his flagship off on a joyride?" 

"I won't take Liberator. We can't afford to lose her." Tarrant said. "I need something fast that I can handle on my own." 

Avon sighed. "Give me one good reason why I should lend you my ship." 

The racer would be perfect. With no weapons to speak of it had ridden out the battle undamaged in Liberator's hold. 

"You need this agreement as much as anyone here," Tarrant pointed out "Without it we just get swamped by Fed troops. I can't see even you turning that to your advantage." 

Avon did eventually agree to let Tarrant take the racer, mainly because Tarrant made it clear that he was going to do it anyway. They were all making sacrifices for the Revolution. Avon could damn well make this one.

At first it didn't seem as if Avon's sacrifice was going to be needed. Shortly before the three hours were up they got a message from Denby. "We don't negotiate with terrorists. Surrender Earth and your ships now or we will destroy you." 

"That's it," Tarrant said to the room. "Looks like we're fighting." 

"There is a message coming in from the warship Disaster," Orac said. 

An anonymous voice said, " Don't listen to the Admiral. He doesn't give a damn about the rest of us. The fleet's for Blake and the Revolution!" 

Other voices broke in now, cursing the first voice or supporting it. 

Orac said "The light bomber Killswitch is no longer registering on the Federation communication grid."

"What does that mean?" Tarrant demanded. 

"It means it's been destroyed." Avon said. "They are fighting among themselves."

Only chaos now came over the comm. 

"I'm going out there," Tarrant said. "Everyone get off the Liberator now! Avon, you've got five minutes to get your ship out of the hold if you want it. Zen, get me a priority one channel to Blake." 

He thought Avon looked briefly dismayed."What happened to not risking the Liberator?" 

"Situation's changed," Tarrant said "I might be able to make a difference out there, but I need speed and weapons. Move, Avon!"

The others were already scurrying for the teleport room as Blake's voice came over the comm. 

“Tarrant? This is not a good time, so unless it’s urgent... ” 

“Urgent as it gets, I’m afraid.” Tarrant explained the situation. "I need to get out there, Blake. If there are people on our side they need to know that we're backing them up, not sitting back and waiting to see what the outcome is." 

“Yes,” Blake said, briefly. “I wish I could come with you.” 

“You can't,” Tarrant said. “We both know that. I'll be back. I've no intention of doing anything stupid.” 

“More to the point, I've no intention of letting him,” Avon said.

“That’s good to know. Take care, both of you. I’ll see you when you get back. I’ve really got to go now. Bye.” 

"Both of us?" Tarrant queried. 

"You can’t go on your own. Who else were you were thinking of taking who can help operate her?" 

It was a good point. Cally was halfway across the galaxy. Dayna was recovering from injuries. Vila was, well, Vila. Not the man Tarrant would want facing down a Federation battle fleet beside him. Neither was Avon, though, for rather different reasons. The whole operation carried a high risk of being ended by a stray gunshot and with Avon on the flight deck that shot wouldn't necessarily come from the other side. 

"I can still read every thought on your face," Avon said. “If I came back without you it would take far more eloquence than I'm capable of to talk your husband out of executing me on the spot. Give me credit for some subtlety. Should I really want to get rid of you, you can be sure that I’ll be nowhere near the scene at the time.”

“How reassuring,” Tarrant said. It was Avon or no-one and he couldn’t take Liberator into a fight on his own. “Come on then.”

At standard by twelve the ex-Federation fleet was barely three hours from Earth. The fleet would still take over two days’ travel to cover that distance at the speed of its larger and slower warships. Tarrant had thought that it was possible that they would send an advance attack force of faster vessels but the only split the fleet had made so far was between the pro and anti-Revolution factions, if you didn’t count a few destroyed hulks in the middle.

These two groups had drawn some way apart, out of weapons range. Tarrant had necessarily had to announce that Liberator was coming, since bolstering the morale of the pro-Revolution faction was the whole point, and now he was experiencing the disconcerting sensation of flying towards a battle that might only be waiting for his arrival to get going. 

“There’s another one,” Avon said. On the long range scan they could see a ship break away from the Federation side towards the rebels, accelerating wildly. It hadn’t moved fast enough; plasma bolts hit its engines which exploded before it was halfway to its new allies.

“That’s it. No-one else will try,” Avon predicted. “No-one else will declare themselves for us while they are under those guns. What’s your plan?”

“Avoiding a pitched battle, for a start,” Tarrant said. “The casualties would be terrible.”

“It might solve the problem of superfluous military personnel and equipment,” Avon suggested. “Not to mention cutting down the cost of all these extra bonuses you’ve promised.”

“And the next time aliens invade, we can wave little Revolutionary flags at them,” Tarrant retorted. “I am not wiping out eighty percent of our armed forces because it will help balance the budget!”

“They aren’t ours yet,” Avon said.

Tarrant sighed and opened the comm again. He really wished Blake was here. Blake was so much better at persuasive than him.

 

Fortunately there was one thing he was better at Blake than. Tarrant would never have imagined that the fate of the revolution would really rest on his ability to fly Liberator in rings around every other ship in the sky, certainly not when ‘every other ship’ was half the Federation main fleet. After all they’d spent years taking to their heels if they encountered any more than two pursuit ships at a time.

This time Liberator had led the fastest of its new allies in a set of weaving attack patterns designed not so much to cause damage as to break up the solid mass of opposing ships. Over and over they dived in and dashed out again until the enemy were scattered and changing sides was possible again in the chaos. 

Some of his ships were hit but even so more and more ships came back with him every time until finally the enemy were clearly outgunned and the individual defections turned into a scrambled rout to join the winning side.

At this point Admiral Denby had met with an unfortunate accident on his own flight deck and his successor was far less definitive about the impossibility of negotiating with rebels. Within six hours of reaching the ex-Federation ships, Liberator had started back at the head of the new Earth Alliance Fleet, ready to support the Revolution and the new government. The Acting Commander was feeling remarkably pleased with himself.

Avon had helped, of course, coaxing optimal attack patterns out of Orac and a great deal out of the weapon systems. And he’d flown Liberator while Tarrant moved from ship to ship on the long way home, introducing himself to the senior officers, talking abut Blake's revolution, repeating his promises and twice dodging assassination attempts from people still loyal to the old regime. Tarrant made sure that he gave the man credit in his regular reports back to Blake. He had enough glory- he could afford to share a little.

It had occurred to him that Avon was the only one of them without a formal role in the new administration. However angry Blake still might be Tarrant felt that he ought to give the man something. Avon could after all be useful as long as he was carefully watched. That conversation would have to wait for some privacy though and it was a long way down the queue of things that had to wait for privacy. They hadn’t had a moment alone together since the battle started.

The arrival of the fleet was marked with ceremony. Blake had decided that a population still traumatised by the battle for Earth was unlikely to appreciate a military flyby so instead the senior officer from every ship came down to recite a formal oath to the revolution on behalf of their vessel and shipmates. It was a longwinded fuss, particularly since everyone had scores of other things to be getting on with, but they had somehow to persuade a highly sceptical general population that the military were now the good guys. This was a start.

The last oath was taken and Blake with Tarrant beside him were about to leave the parade ground when Avon came striding towards the Interim President. Blake held up a hand to stop his bodyguards challenging the man’s approach. Tarrant could see the cameras swinging round to focus on this new event.

“Avon,” Blake said pleasantly. “Welcome back.”

That was about as neutral as it was possible to get, Tarrant thought.

“Thank you.” Avon said. “You’ll be pleased to know that I won’t be staying. I just need your clearance to take my ship out of the system. I wouldn’t want to be shot down by your new friends.”

Blake looked a little stunned, but he rallied. “Of course you have clearance. Tarrant will make sure of it.”

“Indeed,” Tarrant said. He was quite happy to facilitate this particular departure. “Do you need help getting the racer out of the hold?”

“I thought I’d leave it there,” Avon said. “One never knows when it will come in handy.”

This time Tarrant was quicker on the uptake than his husband. “You’re not taking Liberator!”

“I am,” Avon said. “You have a whole fleet to play with. You don’t need her, and she belongs to me now under the terms of a deal made long ago. Isn’t that right, Blake?”

Blake’s face had whitened around his eyes and lips. He glanced over at the cameras. “Yes,” he said finally. “That was the deal.”

It was an old, old promise. “You can’t possibly consider yourself bound by it, not after everything that has happened!” Tarrant protested.

“We have to keep our promises,” Blake said, more firmly. “How else can we be trusted? And Avon has done so much for the revolution. Take her with my gratitude.”

“You may want to come and collect your possessions before I leave,” Avon said to Tarrant. “Also I imagine you may have one or two things to say to me, which we might as well get done. Shall we go?”

 

“You cannot take her,” Tarrant insisted. They were alone in the ship now. “The fleet could turn against us. There are hundreds of systems out there that might do anything. We desperately need her. You must see that.”

“I do,” Avon agreed. “What your argument overlooks is that I don’t care. Once I’m out of this system your revolution may succeed or fail. 

“What about Blake?” Tarrant demanded. “You can’t tell me that you don’t care what happens to him!”

Avon gave him a brief sarcastic smile.

Tarrant slammed his hand against the smooth ship wall. “Shit! It’s all been about this fucking deal, hasn’t it? All that smooching up to him, desperately begging me to take your side. You just wanted to get to the point where he’d give you the fucking ship when you asked for it!”

“He wasn’t going to do it while he was still calling me a murderer, regardless of what he’d promised,” Avon agreed. “You were extremely helpful, by the way. Terribly sympathetic towards the poor sap hopelessly in love with your husband. Annoyingly condescending, but I could live with that.”

“I'll tell him,” Tarrant hissed.

“Tell him what? That I had an ulterior motive when I saved his revolution? I don’t think he’ll be surprised. That I’m not in love with him? He never for a moment imagined I was. That I’m not a good person? He’d laugh at you. He promised me Liberator with the cameras running. Nothing you could say would make him go back on his word, not now.”

They were standing at the entrance to the quarters Tarrant shared with Blake, rooms that had been their home for so long. He'd somehow imagined that even after the changes they'd always have this place to come back to. 

"I'll arrange to have everything personal removed to storage before I leave, " Avon said. Tarrant thought he sounded rather less smug now. "I imagine as consort to the president your living quarters on Earth will be a great deal more luxurious. You'll need something to fill up the space." 

Tarrant looked around at their stuff, the things they'd gathered over the months and years together. "Leave it here," he said. "Or throw it out if you need the room. " Liberator could have housed a crew of hundreds in comfort. Avon wouldn't need the space. "I don't want to be reminded of anything you've done." 

"So bitter?" Avon said. "I would have thought that you'd be relieved. " 

"Why the hell should I be relieved that you've turned out to be a selfish, manipulative bastard after all?" Tarrant demanded. "That you're taking my ship?" 

Avon laughed out loud at that. "Because I get what I want eventually " he said. "Even if I have to wait years for it. You're lucky that what I wanted was the ship and not your husband. Trust me, you wouldn't have been able to keep him from me if he had been what I was really after." 

That was the point at which the Acting Commander of the largest and most powerful military force in the galaxy resorted to violence, and punched him in the face. 

"Tarrant?" Zen relayed Blake's voice. "Are you finished in the ship yet? Your new Admiral won't implement the leave allowances, there's an urgent report from Cally, and a new bunch of ships coming towards Earth that say they are on our side but won't talk to the Fleet, only you personally. I could really do with you back here again as soon as possible. "

Avon wiped the blood from his nose. "Well? Are we finished here?" 

"Take the damn ship," Tarrant told him. "And don't come back."

Avon shook his head. "I can't promise that, " he said. "I'm pretty sure Blake will miss me after a while and maintaining friendly relations with the most powerful person in the galaxy seems like a sound strategy. But I'll leave you in peace for a while at least. There's a suitable crew to find and train and after that I have numerous plans. "

"Tarrant?" Blake's voice came again. "Did you get my message?"

Tarrant though of Avon sailing off carefree in Liberator while he was left to sort out Blake's problems and a hundred other besides. Life was not fair, not at all when Kerr Avon was involved. Still, he had something that it turned out that Avon apparently didn't have the good judgement to even want. 

"Zen. Message to Blake. I'm on my way." He turned on his heel without another word to Avon and set off without even a backwards look at his old home on his way back to his husband. 


End file.
